When Love Helps Us To Change

So many gifts from the book, “The Mermaid’s Chair” by Sue Monk Kidd. I read that book ages ago—sitting on a Cape Cod beach, contemplating a relationship that felt like it was  

tearing me apart.

I had gone to that beach to pray and surrender, “What is this relationship about?” and “Why now?”.

I had loved Kidd’s earlier novels and I thought, “OK, …good beach book.” Such prophetic words.

In the novel, a woman –an artist-writer--falls in love with a monk. Not convenient, not smart, not without agony. I related to that immediately. So much for distraction from my own state of affairs.

But then this, “When a person is in need of a cataclysmic change—a whole new center in the personality—his or her psychic world will produce an infatuation—an erotic attachment—an intense ‘falling in love’. Falling in love is the oldest, most ruthless catalyst on earth.”

And then this, “We fall in love with something we are missing or seeking in ourselves.”

Oh!

And then I knew where to dig.  And why this thing was happening.

With whom have you fallen in love? Does it seem to “make no sense”? Is something being reorganized in you? Does the object of your attachment—that so desirable other—have something you are missing or seeking in yourself?

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More on love and relationships in "Out of the Woods--A Woman's Guide to Long-term Recovery" published by Central Recovery Press.

What Changes in Long-term Recovery? Willingness!

Among the true markers of long recovery is a life with more peace, more compassion and more acceptance. When I hear folks with long recovery talk what impresses me most is their willingness. I hear, and I see—because it’s behavior that counts --their willingness to use the tools of recovery; their willingness to admit they are wrong; and their willingness to say, “I don’t know” and “You may be right.”

Our friends with strong recovery have a willingness to believe in a Higher Power, and a willingness to surrender their lives to that Higher Power. Yes, there is still that swing of giving and taking back our will, and no one does this perfectly, but I do admire the willingness of people in recovery who do more than just give up or go along with what is

happening. Instead they practice a kind of active willingness.

Seeing that kind of deep and amazing change is what prompted me to write about long-term recovery in the book, “Out of the Woods.”

I think of it this way: Willingness is more than just gravity. An apple falling from a tree may or may not be willing. But a person who tries sky diving, bungee jumping or slipping into the deep end of the swimming pool is demonstrating willingness. Acceptance requires willingness, and forgiveness is the product of willingness. And, as we’ve been told over the years, you only need a little bit of willingness to do any of this. Just a very little bit. 

Some of my favorite sayings about willingness are these:

“Willingness is a grace. It is a softening. It is leaving the door slightly ajar.”

“Willingness is showing up. It is showing up and letting go.”

“Willingness is a freedom and it is a step toward freedom.”

“Willingness is a movement of energy; my energy joined to God’s.”

One of the finest messages we garner from The Big Book is about willingness. It is in the story called, “Freedom from Bondage” and it describes the author wanting so badly to be free of a terrible resentment. She gets some help from a magazine article and she describes the practice this way: “If you have a resentment you want to be free of, if you will pray for the person or thing that you resent, you will be free.” The prescription suggests that we do this praying for two weeks.

The writer goes on to say, “It has worked for me many times, and it will work for me every time I am willing to work for it.”

In many ways it couldn’t be a simpler suggestion. We can seek willingness and even the willingness to be willing. 

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"Out of the Woods--A Guide to Long-term Recovery" is published by Central Recovery Press. 

The True Cost of Change

“I want to change this thing about myself.”  I say things like that, maybe you too? We want to change beliefs, behaviors, or attitudes. We “work” on ourselves, we read books, talk to smart friends and therapists, and we get better. But then, it’s still kinds there.

So is there something about the process of change that we’re missing? 

I’m in the middle of an intense Yoga Teacher Training. When I signed up I worried about getting hurt—would my body be able to handle it? Would I have enough endurance and flexibility? Well, guess what? It’s not about the body. The center piece and challenge in this Yoga Teacher Program is about being willing to change, and willing to learn.

Here are two things I have learned about change in the past few weeks:

One: Change is betrayal. Yes, betrayal. To make changes in your life you have to betray habits. We are loyal to our habits whether they are physical or mental or emotional, and to make deep, lasting change means we have to betray ourselves, and betray our habits. That’s part of the charge and what gets stirred up when we get close to real change. Now, I can say, “I am willing to betray my habits, to make new ones.”

Two: Here is a metaphor for transformation. If you put paper near a fire the paper will get really hot. But if you put paper directly in a fire it will be transformed. Most of us, when we are attempting an important change, get near the fire, but we don’t get the fire, and then we wonder why we are not transformed. Most of us miss the last 5% of commitment. So we have to go all the way into the change.

Chew on these along with the things you most want to change: your thinking, your diet, beliefs about yourself, your work. And then betray your habits and roll right into that fire.

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Read more about recovery and change in my book: "Out of the Woods-A Guide to Long-term Recovery" published by Central Recovery Press

The Ever Wise Robin Norwood

Yes, the intervention that started my recovery was a book: “Women Who Love Too Much” by Robin Norwood. At that time my drinking was a secret (and it was private), and my eating disorder was heavily (or thinly) disguised so the only evidence that I was in deep trouble was the chaotic relationships in my life.

In truth, all those things were intertwined. The mess and grief of relationships, the games I played with food to exercise a kind of control I never had and always wanted, and then the nightly alcohol to soothe the shame I felt over all of it.

No fewer than six people gave me Robin’s brilliant book that year. Even they, I later learned, were baffled by my behaviors. And I was too. My life hurt so much. But the sheer number of copies of WWL2M made it impossible for me to ignore the book so I read it. And I wept. 

And then the miracle: At the back of the book, after Robin describes the patterns of women who grew up in alcoholic or abusive families, she also says, “So if you identify with the women in this book then its very likely that you also have a problem with alcohol, drugs or food.” And I heard the loud: Ding! Ding! Ding! Scoring three out of three. A winner. I called ALL of the 800 numbers Norwood listed and that week I went to Alanon, and ACOA and OA and finally to AA….and that miracle continues to this day.

I go back to her book and those principles every few months.

Here’s a bit of Robin Norwood wisdom that applies to relationships and to all the other things that come our way in recovery--and in life:

“If we want to stop loving too much, first we change how we act, then how we think, and finally how we feel. If we wait until we feel differently before we behave differently, we will never change, never recover.”